


The Great Watermelon Heist

by Gloomier



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash, Thorin and Bilbo are Idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 03:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5481038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gloomier/pseuds/Gloomier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two idiots, one watermelon.</p>
<p>(Or the time Thorin tried to steal a watermelon)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Great Watermelon Heist

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt is from [this reblog](http://oakenshieldbaggins.tumblr.com/post/135497873507/fun-unique-original-fucked-up-aus), which states: "just saw you take the last good watermelon from my shopping cart what the fuck??? come back what the fuck hiding it under your shirt won’T STOP RUNNING AWAY FROM ME."
> 
> Many thanks to [airebellah](http://airebellah.tumblr.com/).
> 
>  
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://tea-blitz.tumblr.com/)

Bilbo loved Saturdays.

Saturdays meant that he had the entire day to spend however he pleased.

The weekend routine began with a nice lay-in lasting until 10:00am, accompanied by languid stretching and relaxed sighing. When he finally managed to escape the comforts of his queen-sized heaven, he meandered towards the kitchen, first making a pit stop at the front door to save his morning paper from the flowerbed lining the front of the house. Frodo was up already, murdering a bowl of cereal while watching some obscure T.V. show.

Opting not to make a three course breakfast just for himself, Bilbo toasted a couple pieces of wheat bread, slathering strawberry jam across them and grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl sitting on the counter. He happily munched on his jam-covered toast and perused some articles on gardening, quickly skipping past the political segments of the newspaper on his way to the crossword puzzle.

When the morning half of his routine was completed, he quickly showered. At a quarter to 11:00 he stuck his head out of the bathroom and yelled at Frodo to get ready to go, while he dutifully finished brushing his teeth.

They're both out the door shortly thereafter.

The walk from their house to Bilbo's favorite little family-owned grocery store was about a twenty minute walk one-way. It was short distance and Bilbo always insists on walking merely for the fresh air – and what a fine day it was to take a walk. The trip was filled with Frodo telling him about a school project he had for physics which was due next week, not that Bilbo was familiar with that department – his degrees lay within the bounds of history and literature after all – but he tried his best to keep up with the babbling teenager.

The time seemed to slip by as Frodo explained the intricacies of his project, and before long Bilbo was wheeling a shopping cart down the produce section of the market. He had his heart set on a nice ripe watermelon. Today would be another hot day and he aimed to work outside in the garden after the shopping was completed; watermelon was the perfect snack after a long and hot afternoon's worth of work.

It seemed as though a lot of others had the same idea. There was a single watermelon left when he got to the stand. Thankfully it was in pristine condition – not a single bruise on it as Bilbo carefully turned it in both hands; it was medium in size – ideal for what he needed it for – and it was perfectly ripe by the look of the cream color at the bottom end of the fruit. He gently set it in the front end of the basket just as Frodo returned with some extra materials for his project.

“Got everything you needed?” Bilbo asked, pushing the cart towards the napkin aisle.

“Pretty sure, yeah,” Frodo nodded.

“You get the milk and eggs and I'll go grab the flour and napkins, we'll meet at the checkout – you can grab some of those goldfish crackers too if you want,” Frodo whooped and jogged off, Bilbo snorting as he went on his merry way.

Grabbing two packages of white paper napkins went without incident; he left his cart on one side of the aisle as he inspected packages of flour, weighing the merits of price versus quality of some of the brands – entirely too distracted to notice someone turn into the aisle with him.

It was out of his peripheral that Bilbo saw someone reach into the basket of his shopping cart; it was hard to believe someone had the nerve to do such a thing! He snapped his head towards his cart just as the thief lifted the watermelon from the basket. There was a moment when both of them stood deathly still, like the world does in the eye of a storm; Bilbo carefully observed the watermelon thief, taking note of the man's long black hair tied back with an elastic tie, and the carefully trimmed beard that furred his chin. But before further observations could be made, all hell broke loose.

The thief, knowing he had been caught, hefted the melon into his arms and shoved it under his white tee-shirt, making a run for it. The whole situation would have been hilarious were it not for that the fact that the jerk had stolen his watermelon! Bilbo almost snorted at the absurdity of the man hiding the fruit under his tee, which hugged the thief in all the right places, barely covering half the watermelon.

“Hey! That's my watermelon you thief, give it back!” Bilbo yelled, running after the man. Bilbo chased the dark-haired degenerate through the market, many of its patrons looked on in varying degrees of interest and disgust – he would never live this store visit down.

The stranger was rather agile for someone hoarding a watermelon under his shirt, Bilbo noted with some irritation. As they dashed by aisle after aisle – Bilbo nearly unable to keep pace with the jerk – a large display of soda tripped the thief up as he tried to make a sharp turn around it. Nearly losing his balance, the man tried to correct himself and those few crucial seconds allowed for Bilbo to catch up and run right into the thief, tackling him to the ground.

The stranger groaned, pained by the impact of his pursuer.

“Ah ha!” Bilbo crowed triumphantly from atop the man. “Thought you could steal my watermelon, did you? Not today.”

“Get off me you awful little monster,” the thief growled, trying to shove Bilbo off him.

“Not just a thief then, but absolutely rude as well. Not surprising,” Bilbo clipped out, lifting himself from the floor.

By now, all those who witnessed them running through the store were peeking around the ends of the aisle – Bilbo spotted Frodo too, hand across his face in embarrassment. _Oh dear_ , Bilbo thought, only now realizing what he'd done. There were two teenagers standing next to Frodo, nearly beside themselves with side-splitting laughter.

“All that for a fucking watermelon,” the thief spoke up. “You chased _and_ tackled me over a stupid fruit.”

“It was my fruit, thank you very much!” Bilbo said indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

It was only when the degenerate picked himself up off the floor that Bilbo noticed that the watermelon had been crushed under their combined weight; the section of linoleum floor where they fell was entirely coated by watermelon juice, a pancake of green chunks and pink pulp lay in the middle.

“What sort of person chases and tackles someone over a fruit?”

“What sort of person –” Bilbo started to say until the thief turned to face him. The stranger was coated in watermelon juice just as the floor, but the turn of events had Bilbo turning pink just like the destroyed fruit’s pulp. The already tight-fitting white tee was soaked, clinging to the man like a second skin, and Bilbo had a perfect view of the captivating expanse of both chest and stomach that lay hidden underneath.

The thief cleared his throat, breaking Bilbo from his stupor. “W-What sort of person steals a watermelon from someone else's cart?” he asked awkwardly, trying not to stare.

The jerk opened his mouth to no doubt sling an insult at him, but was interrupted when a couple of the market staff showed up at the scene.

“I'm sorry sir, but we're going to have to ask you to leave the premises,” the employee said stiffly.

“What, leave?” Bilbo said with mild outrage. “That man there stole a watermelon from my cart. If anyone should leave, it's _him_.” Bilbo jabbed a finger in the thief's direction.

“He'll be going as well. This is a well respected establishment and we'll not have hooligans running amok, destroying store property.”

“My family and I have been faithful shoppers here for years!” Bilbo argued.

“I'm sorry sir, but it's our policy. Please leave or you will be forcefully escorted out.”

“The nerve, I cannot believe this!”

In the back the two teenagers had begun cackling again, and Bilbo barely registered a quietly uttered plea from Frodo.

“Can it, would you? We just got kicked out of the store, this could have been avoided if you didn't have to go after me for a watermelon.” the stranger remarked, rubbing at his temple.

“You're blaming me? I'm not the one who steals from other people's carts!” Bilbo growled.

One of the employees made to phone the police as he was winding up for another diatribe when the degenerate wrapped a hand around his bicep. Bilbo found himself forcefully dragged towards the exit before any authorities could be called. He struggled defiantly, cursing the strength of the jerk.

“Mum is going to murder Uncle Thorin,” one of the teenagers said, clearly still amused.

“I'm so embarrassed right now,” Frodo mumbled through the hand planted firmly over his face.

“Unhand me you great brute!” Bilbo yelled.

The two employees followed them outside, one of them adding ' _please don’t return_ ' before they both turned back into the store, leaving the troublemakers behind. 

“And now we're banned from the store!” Bilbo moaned, raking his hands through his hair.

“I'm sorry,” the stranger said as he shoved his hands in his pockets, finally looking a little sheepish.

“You're sorry?” Bilbo snarled. “I've been making trips to this grocery store since I was a child, and now – now I can never return. What am I supposed to do?” he asked, not truly expecting an answer from the man who got him into this mess in the first place.

“I know of another place where you might be able to get a watermelon,” the man offered.

*

It was just after 1:00pm when Thorin returned home, Dís already yelling at him as he stepped past the threshold.

“Thorin Durinson!” she bellowed. “Where is my watermelon?”

His nephews must have called ahead; she had been in another room when he returned and hadn't seen him come in empty-handed.

“It's all over me and you're welcome to it,” Thorin groused, peeling his shirt up over his head and off his body. Balling it up, he tossed it in a laundry basket on his way to the bathroom.

Before he forgot, Thorin dug a crumpled receipt from his pants pocket and smoothed it out. On the back was written in an elegant hand the name Bilbo Baggins and a phone number.


End file.
